Steps Toward Something
by Piccolo999
Summary: Harry and Hermione's relationship continues to grow as they move into their second year at Hogwarts. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy plots his revenge. Sequel to my story Loneliness. HP/HG pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

**A/N: **I've had this idea knocking around in my distracted little head for a while now, and I'm finally feeling like I can sit down and get it down. Fair warning that my intentions are always to stick with things and finish them, but that doesn't always happen. That said, I loved writing Loneliness, creating the world and playing with my versions of Harry and Hermione that exist within it, and I'm looking forward to returning to them and exploring their growing relationship. Loneliness was never really supposed to be part one of a story, although I did leave some loose ends so that if I felt the need, I could return to it. I'm pretty happy with Loneliness as a whole, and I think I told the tale I wanted to tell within that story (short though it may be), so I'm a little anxious about messing with it by creating this sequel. Hopefully I won't mess it up.

**Steps Toward Something**

Chapter One

'So, Potter, how do you fancy coming to live with me?'

Just like that, Harry had a home again. A real home. It wasn't some mockery of family, nor a fake foster home, and it certainly was not a government sanctioned mental hospital. Things weren't perfect, not by any means, but Harry knew that at least Snape cared about him, in some way. And the wizard was a connection to his parents, not some random couple that just wanted a child to claim as their own, "any child will do, just give us one please, thank you".

No, Snape was more than that. Exactly what, Harry wasn't sure, but that could be figured out later. It just felt good to finally be wanted. Reflecting back on the year, Harry wouldn't have imagined any of this would have happened. That he would meet Hermione, someone as damaged as him - although maybe not in the same ways - that they would bond, and he would finally have a real friend. Not imaginary. Not a dream snake made of fire. An actual flesh and blood person.

Then there was Hogwarts, and magic, and learning. School was never something he had truly experienced. Not like this. The fact that coming to Hogwarts had opened up the world to him, not just educationally, but physically, was something he would never forget. Hogwarts had given him a taste of freedom he had thought never to get.

Snape was the final part. Exactly how that part fit into everything, Harry had no idea. It just felt nice to know that someone cared. An adult. A… parental figure. It was like having a dad again… maybe. At least, that's how Harry thought of it, as he lay in the cot Snape had summoned for him, nestled under a mound of blankets in Snape's quarters.

Harry didn't remember his own father. He had seen his picture in some old Hogwarts newspapers, grinning in Gryffindor Quidditch gear with his teammates, but that was the extent of it. He didn't know much else about him. He couldn't remember how he smelt; he couldn't picture his face in any other way than what he had seen in those pictures. Harry wasn't even sure if his dad had ever even held him. He must have, right? But he might as well not have, for all Harry could remember.

Harry remembered his uncle Vernon more than his own father (and wished he didn't). That was just the sad truth.

Suddenly feeling unsettled, Harry kicked his blankets off and sat up, staring at the darkness around him. A small light flickered on the wall opposite, casting odd shadows. Harry stared at the flames, not even remotely tired. It was well past midnight, and yet he couldn't sleep. He was restless, thoughts a whorl, spinning in circles from Hermione, to Snape, to his dead father, to the upcoming journey to his new home at Spinner's End, and then inevitably back to Hermione. Nearly two months would pass before he would see her again. For how he felt, it might as well be two years. How could he wait that long? She was his lifeline, his oxygen.

He needed to get out. Lying in bed with nothing to do but think was not helping. He needed to feel that freedom of movement, to find something to take his mind off his thoughts. Anything would do.

The door to Snape's quarters shut quietly behind him.

Hogwarts was silent as Harry made his way down the empty corridors, the smooth stone floor cold like ice on his bare feet. He didn't really know where he was headed, no goal in mind for his midnight jaunt, but eventually he found himself standing outside Filch's office.

The ever-miserable caretaker of Hogwarts was notoriously strict, some might say downright sadistic. Not for the first time, Harry thought back to his time spent in a Muggle psychiatric institute, and remembered nurses and staff there that had been remarkably similar. Men and women that saw their charges as little more than nuisances, things to be dealt with, rather than cared for.

There was one woman, a stern skeletal figure known as Mrs. Harding, who had seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in mistreating her subjects. Harry had been on her bad side from the moment he stepped into her care. He had been struck, isolated for no good reason, strapped to a bed for countless nights, starved, and more than once, burned. Remembering the stub of her cigarette, Harry reached up under his shirt and felt the most prominent mark, what once was his left nipple and was now a twisted mess. She had put out her cigarette there one night when he was strapped down, smiling sweetly at him all the while.

'I thought you liked to burn things,' he remembered her saying, and clenched his fists.

Filch might never have done those things, but everyone knew he would like to, if he had his way. Face grim, Harry tried the handle to his office and found it open. Filch probably thought it was safe to leave it unlocked now that the students had gone home. He had clearly over-looked Harry. In the back of the office, a set of drawers ran the length of the room. Above them a plaque read: Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.

Curious, Harry began searching through them. He knew it belonged to him the moment he touched it. The parchment sang out to him. He pulled it out of the drawer and spread it upon the caretaker's desk. It was folded in several ways, but when he finally had it open, the parchment revealed to him a message:

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs  
>Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers<br>are proud to present  
>THE MARAUDER'S MAP<em>

Harry read the words in confusion, and as he finished, the parchment changed again, and began to spread out with various lines, until finally it formed a map. It was remarkable. The map even revealed the location of people within Hogwarts, as Harry saw the names of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore stationary in their sleeping quarters. He traced the lines of the map with his fingers, knowing Hogwarts like the back of his hand, but some of the passages were unfamiliar to him, so either the map was wrong, or these passages had eluded him somehow.

Harry hadn't stolen anything since Snape had confronted him about his habit, but he didn't have to think long or hard about it, before he closed the map, folded it up, and stuck it in his pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

**A/N: **I'm going to try for longer chapters in this story, because I think that is something most of you want. Might take me a while to get into the swing of things, as these first few chapters I have specific things in mind for and don't really want to paste them all together.

**Steps Toward Something**

Chapter Two

Hermione's Dad finally broke the silence between them two days after she returned from Hogwarts for the summer. They sat at the dinning room table, eating a pretty meagre meal of beans on toast (her Dad's staple, which, after the splendour of Hogwarts meals, was looking even worse than it normally did), when he finally spoke more than a token "hello".

'So, how was school?' he asked, looking at her sideways.

Hermione finished chewing her "food" before she finally replied with a simple, soft-spoken, 'it was fine.'

Her Dad sighed softly and nodded. He always did when he tried to talk to her, which wasn't often, and her replies did not satisfy him. Once she had tried, really tried, but he was never pleased, and so she had given up. The silence was better. This awkward attempt at bonding only brought home to her the reality of her life.

Her Mum cared so much for her that she left her Dad when Hermione was six and only ever saw her once every fortnight. That was, of course, if she was not out getting drunk and coming round at three in the morning, banging on the door, talking loud and slurring her words. Hermione had lain in bed and listened to her own Mother drunkenly beg her Father to leave with her, forget that mistake sleeping upstairs and just go. How many times had that happened? That, or worse?

Hermione wished she could forget.

At least her Dad stayed. He was miserable - it was plain as day, as was the cause – but he stayed anyway. She loved him for that, even as she hated how pathetic their relationship was - pathetic and strained. It was clear her Dad just wanted a normal child, one that spoke and laughed and hugged. Perhaps sit on his lap and listen to him read her a story, or something like that. Unfortunately he was stuck with her. A child who struggled to communicate with most adults, and refused entirely to talk to kids her own age. A child who would freak out if someone tried to touch her in any significant way. A freak.

A mistake.

Someone who wasn't worth the effort of trying.

At least, that's what she had thought before she met Harry.

Harry had made her realise she was worth it, just by his persistence and understanding. At least, she had accepted that he thought she was worth it. And that was all she needed. One person to accept her for who she was, and love her in spite of all of her weirdness.

Maybe her Dad did love her. She wasn't sure. Hermione thought it more likely that he just felt obligated. Which was fine. Understandable, and why she loved him, because before Harry, it was more than she got from anyone else.

She wished she could just tell her Dad everything. Just open her mouth and tell him all about Harry, Hogwarts, Magic, everything. Unfortunately, the truth was, she just didn't feel comfortable doing that. She wished she did. It would be so simple then, just to be normal. But she wasn't normal, and so she couldn't.

She couldn't even talk to Harry, the person she trusted and loved the most in the world. She had to resort to writing her words on pieces of parchment. A pretty pathetic way of communicating, but the only one that she was comfortable with. She had made a small break through at the end of the year though, when she had held Harry's hand, albeit briefly. That gave her hope that she might be able to overcome her other issues, in time, with baby steps.

'Honey?' Her Dad said, snapping her free from her thoughts.

Hermione looked at him. '…yes?'

'I said, I'm going to be out tonight, but I'll be back before you go to bed. Keep the door locked while I'm gone and don't answer it if someone knocks, okay?'

Hermione nodded her understanding. She sometimes wondered if her Dad thought she was stupid, despite the fact her report cards always came back glowingly, at least on the academic side of things.

After her Father left, Hermione stood in front of her bedroom mirror. Her curly brown hair she had bunched up in a ponytail, a few stubborn strands having pulled free to fuzz out at odd angles. The dress she wore was simple and yellow, wrinkled from not being ironed. Her Dad didn't seem to care about that kind of thing, and by extension, neither did she. That said, she tried to smooth out the wrinkles, with no real success. All in all, she looked plain and boring.

Hermione wasn't quite sure why that bothered her, but she put it to the back of her mind. She wasn't standing in front of the mirror to critique her appearance. She was standing in front of it, looking back at herself, for one simple reason.

Practice.

'H-hello… h-harry.'

She smiled and tried again.

(-)

Despite her Dad's claims, Hermione was in bed before he got back, a little after twelve, stumbling in and slamming the door behind him. When he opened the door to her room, the light from the hall blinded her eyes. She heard more than saw him walk slowly until he knelt by her bed.

'Hermione… honey?'

She smelt alcohol on his breath and could see lipstick marks on his collar, illuminated by the light from the hallway.

'Yes, Dad?'

He was silent for a moment. 'I'm sorry.' There was a crack in his voice, and Hermione realised he was crying.

She knew in that moment that her Dad did love her. Despite everything, he did. Yet she had given up on him. The guilt nearly overwhelmed her. It wasn't too late though. He was here now, and though he might not remember in the morning, she would.

'Dad?''

'Yes, honey?'

Silently, she thanked Harry, for everything he had done for her, for everything he had taught her, and so she reached her hand out from under the covers and placed it on her Dad's cheek. His eyes widened and tears slipped free. 'It's okay.'

That was all she needed to say.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

**A/N: **Not much to say. Hope you guys enjoy.

**Steps Toward Something**

Chapter Three

Harry found Snape's home at Spinner's End to be highly claustrophobic, reminiscent of his time in the Muggle Psychiatric Hospital, with its dark, oppressive aura, and its cramped in spaces. Ascending the stairs to his bedroom every night also brought back memories of being locked in the cupboard under the stairs at 4 Privet Drive, something he tried very hard not to remember.

All that said, there was one thing Harry did like about his new home, and that was the fact that every single wall was lined with overflowing bookshelves, crammed so thick with books he struggled to pry them free, leaving behind fingerprints and clean streaks in the dust.

He had one of those books now, clutched to his chest as he walked the muggy streets of Cokeworth. Okay, so maybe he wasn't allowed to read any of those books, and maybe he wasn't allowed outside, under any circumstances, on his own, so some might say he had stolen the book, and that he was not doing exactly as he was told, but Harry didn't think of it that way. He was borrowing the book, and what was so wrong in wanting to escape the cramped confines of Spinner's End to read it in fresh air?

Harry found a good spot on a small hill overlooking the town's rather shabby looking park. He settled down on the dewy grass and opened the book, which was entitled _Book of Spells_, by Miranda Goshawk. The book was full of spells, as the title suggested, so many that Harry really didn't know where to start. He flipped through a few pages, studying several different spells.

There was the Reductor Curse, which was used to blast objects to pieces. Harry thought that might prove useful, so he filed that one away for further study. There was also the Severing Charm, which on paper seemed pretty simple, but Harry could think of other uses for it, if needed. These and many more caught his eye, and he resolved to find a way to practice every single one over the summer.

The sound of children yelling and laughing distracted him on more than one occasion, and finally he put the book down to watch. They ran about below him, chasing each other, laughing and so carefree. They swung on the swings, slid down the slide, and manoeuvred like monkeys around the climbing frame. Harry wondered what it was like to be so free. Free of worries, of darkness inside, tainting everything.

He wondered what was going on in their heads. Did they even suspect what the world was really like? No. If they did, they wouldn't be wasting time on silly things like running around a park and acting stupid.

Harry was so enraptured that he didn't even hear Snape approaching. 'Potter!' The wizard was angry with him, that much was clear from his harsh tone. Harry half expected to feel a hard hand close around his neck, or his arm, or something, but none did. Of course not - Snape never touched him, harshly or otherwise.

Harry sighed and stood up, holding the book out, resigned. 'I didn't steal it. I just wanted to read it.'

'I don't care about the bloody book,' Snape snarled, but he did snatch it away, so obviously he did care somewhat. 'You can't be out here! What did I say?'

'I'm not allowed to leave the house.'

'And so you thought you'd ignore me and go for a stroll!?'

'Yeah, I suppose so.'

Snape glared at him, as if he wanted to smack him, but was resisting. Harry would almost welcome a strike. At least he knew what that meant.

Finally, Snape sighed and said, 'when I said you can't be out here, I meant it. Potter, it's not safe for you out here.'

'I'm not an idiot,' Harry argued. 'I know the world is dangerous. You think I don't?'

'It's not just dangerous for you… it's beyond that.'

'What do you mean?' Harry frowned in confusion.

Snape sighed again and turned his back on him. Harry was beginning to realise that when Snape did that, it meant he was thinking over something hard. He let him think and waited.

Snape turned and walked towards him, stopping just short of touching distance. He glanced down into the park, noticing the children playing for the first time. His face softened just slightly. Harry was also getting better at reading Snape's facial features. Of course that didn't help him understand any better. What about the park, and those children playing, was making Snape calm down?

'Potter… do you want to go play?'

Harry laughed it was so absurd. 'What?' He looked down at all of the normal kids and shook his head at them. 'No, not even a little.'

Snape's eyebrows closed together a little, which Harry figured was a frown. 'Why not?'

Harry shrugged. 'Because… I'm not a kid.'

Snape continued to look at him for a long moment. 'Come on then, let's go home.'

Harry started to follow behind him. 'Can I keep reading the book when we get home?'

'I'll do you one better Potter,' Snape said evenly, 'I'll teach you.'

'You'll teach me?' Harry couldn't believe it. He had fully expected to get shot down.

'That's what I said.'

Harry was speechless, and so he just kept right on following Snape.

When he realised Harry wasn't going to say anything else, Snape continued, 'there is a lot I need to tell you, Potter. Why you can't leave the house. What the future has in store for you. And once you know all that, we'll start to prepare you for it. But you have to promise to listen to me and do as I say. Can you do that?'

'Yes,' Harry said, although he wasn't sure if he could.

'Promise me.'

Harry didn't hesitate to lie. 'I promise.'

(-)

At the same time, another theft was taking place, but this one was miles away, within Malfoy Manor.

Draco Malfoy knew all about his Father's collection of Dark Arts paraphernalia, and knew exactly where he kept it all hidden. So it wasn't hard for him to sneak into his Father's study late at night, magic aside the large rug that covered the trap door, and let himself down into the secret vault of Dark Arts goodies. Sure, there was a little ritual blood letting needed to open the door, but Draco was willing to endure the pain of a sliced palm, as long as he could find something, anything, that would allow him to take his revenge against that crazed pyromaniac Potter.

The only problem was, he had no idea what most of these items did, so he found himself wandering the isles, idly touching random objects and wondering, is this the one? What does it do? Draco wasn't stupid, despite what many people said. He knew that to use any of these Dark objects without full knowledge was risky; perhaps even a death wish, but his hatred of Harry Potter drove him to desperation.

Finally, he rounded one corner and saw it. Separate from the rest, a large glass case stood against the back wall, illuminated by a single flickering torch. Draco approached cautiously. What was inside? Some highly powerful magical wand? A cursed object?

It was none of those things, or any of the other powerful items his mind could imagine. No, it was just a plain book. Frowning, Draco placed his bleeding hand to the case, intending to lift the glass top free. Instead, the glass glowed so brightly he was momentarily blind, and when his sight returned, the glass, if that was what it even was, had vanished. The book lay before him. He picked it up carefully. Was it a book of powerful spells?

But when he opened the pages, he was dismayed to find them blank. What was this? He flipped through several more pages, all of them as empty as the first. Why did his Father have an empty book locked up down here?

He got his answer then, when it spoke to him, the writing appearing in flowing script:

_Hello, who is this? _


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

**A/N: **I know you guys are probably eager for more Hermione. Don't worry. She will be back next chapter and things can really get going. Hope you enjoy this one either way. I'm trying to at least give you guys at least thousand words with these chapters. Some may be more than that, I hope, but I promise they will at least be a thousand words.

**Steps Toward Something**

Chapter Four

'_Stupefy!_' The spell burst along the training dummy with a red glow.

'Good,' Snape praised, nodding his head.

Harry turned from facing the mannequin and regarded his mentor. 'I still don't get why this spell is so important. If I'm being attacked, shouldn't I be trying to hurt my attackers, rather than just… putting them to sleep?' Harry said that last part with a derisive tone to his voice.

Snape regarded him for a moment. 'Okay, Potter. Say you hurt your attacker; he's down on the floor, in pain, but still conscious. What then?'

Harry thought for a moment. 'Then I…' He was going to say, "kill him", but suddenly he thought of Hermione, and what she might think of that, and he found himself unable to say the words.

'Then you what?' Snape looked at him as if he knew what he was thinking.

Harry shrugged, and looked away. 'I dunno.'

'And while you hesitate, your attacker takes the time to finish you off. You're dead. Congratulations, Potter.' Snape jabbed his wand into Harry's chest for emphasis.

Harry knocked the wand away with a scowl and walked over to stare at one of the bookshelves in Snape's living room, which was really just an excuse not to have to look at his mentor. 'Fine, okay, so you're saying I should focus on knocking out my enemies so they can't hurt me…'

'Precisely.' Snape let him think on that for moment. 'Look, Potter, I know how you feel. I understand wanting to hurt the people that are trying to hurt you. The feeling of wanting to see them scream in pain for even thinking they can attack you and get away with it.'

'Do you?' Harry interrupted, turning to scrutinize his guardian.

Snape stared back solemnly. 'I do.'

And Harry saw that he did. He recognised the look within Snape's eyes, laid bare to him for this moment, because he saw them every time he stared into a mirror. Uncomfortable, Harry resumed his perusing of the bookcase, his fingers idly trailing along the shelves and the spines of the various volumes.

'The point, Potter, is that you can't let that rage control you. It took me many years, and countless mistakes, mistakes that I can never…' Snape paused and sucked in a painful breath. 'Mistakes I can never take back, to come to terms with that truth. I share it with you now because I don't want to see you go down the same path that I did. You need to control it, use it to fuel you when needed, but never let it consume you. Do you understand?'

Harry wasn't sure he did, but he lied anyway. 'Yeah, I do.'

There was another pregnant pause, then Snape said, 'that's enough for today. Go and pack up your things. We're travelling back to Hogwarts a little earlier than planned.'

Harry turned to look at Snape, but the wizard was already leaving the room. He was going to ask why, but as he thought about it, he realised he didn't really care. He was going back to Hogwarts, and that was all that mattered. He quickly dashed up to his room to prepare.

The first thing he packed was the Marauder's Map.

(-)

After their little chat atop the hill overlooking the park, Snape had explained to Harry why it was so important that he stay indoors during their stay at Spinner's End. In short, Snape believed that the wizard responsible for the death of Harry's parents was still out there, weakened by his failed attempt on Harry, but still alive in some way, shape, or form.

Snape explained it all. How the Dark Lord had somehow learnt of a prophecy relating to Harry, and how his parents had tried to hide. How Voldemort had found them and tried to kill them. How Harry's mother had protected him, causing the Killing Curse to backfire and, at least for the time being, incapacitate his would be murderer. How the prophecy foretold of their eventual confrontation, and how one would have to kill the other.

It was a heavy piece of knowledge to learn, that you're destined to face off with arguably the most powerful wizard known to exist, and either live and be victorious, or lose, and die.

Snape also told him of his theory; that the snake Harry had dreamt about so often as a child was in fact a fragment of that Dark Lord that had somehow latched onto Harry during his failed assassination attempt.

That knowledge, more than anything, enraged Harry. This wizard, the so-called Dark Lord Voldemort, had been messing with his entire life. Since birth he had been behind every wretched thing that had happened to Harry. He was the cause of it all. He had stolen Harry's childhood. Robbed him of a loving family. Tormented his young mind.

And yet, the saddest part of it all, that snake - that fragment of Voldemort - was the closest thing he had to a friend. It had taught him in his sleep. Listened to all his hurts and consoled him. Perhaps most importantly, it had protected him from his abusive relatives when no one else would.

It was true, at least, before Hermione. She had changed it all when she became his friend, a real friend this time, one of flesh and blood. And while he could not touch her, and she did not speak to him in any vocal sense, in truth, it was more than he had before. More than he ever hoped to have.

Which is why he was determined to find a place for them within Hogwarts. Armed with the Marauder's Map, Harry made his way through the dark, practically deserted castle, in the middle of the night, using it to avoid any potential encounters with Filch. He was searching each and every hidden corridor, one by one, looking for that perfect spot.

The first few proved to be unsuitable. One was completely blocked off. Another was only a cramped narrow tunnel that seemed to go on forever and ever. Harry gave up after half an hour with no end in sight. He made a mental note to follow it all the way to the end at a later date.

Finally, he came across another collapsed passageway, however this one was quite wide, and had more than enough room for it to be made liveable. He could see it now. Summon a few drapes to hide the ugly rubble blocking the way; add a nice plush carpet or rug, some chairs and a table over in the corner, and perhaps a bookshelf. There was even room for a small cot if one of them wanted to sleep there.

Harry smiled. Yes, it would work wonderfully, at least for the time being. He was still determined to find the real Chamber of Secrets, if it even existed. It wasn't on the Marauder's Map, so perhaps it didn't. Then again, maybe Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, whoever they were, had never discovered it either. And if that was the case, it could prove challenging to uncover.

Harry did love a challenge.

The rest of the Hogwarts student body would be arriving in five days, which meant he had more than enough time to get the secret den ready for Hermione, and finish searching the rest of the hidden passageways on the Map.

With a purposeful wave of his wand, Harry began.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

**A/N: **I'm kinda teasing you guys a little, huh? :P Sorry. I just really love how this chapter works. I hope you guys agree.

**Steps Toward Something**

Chapter Five

Unlike her first journey to Hogwarts, in which she and Harry had sat silently in the corridor, Hermione actually managed to find a compartment to sit in this time. Her dad had dropped her off at Kings Cross early, in the hopes that she would be able to find an empty compartment. He had walked her to the wall separating the Muggle platforms nine and ten in silence, but once there he knelt and gave her a short hug, which she returned lightly.

'Er,' he stumbled over his words a little, 'have a great year.'

She nodded with a small smile and then separated, pulling her trunk behind her as she walked to the invisible entrance to platform nine and three quarters. Once there, she turned and waved. The last thing she saw of her dad before she vanished through the wall was his hand rising to wave back.

The first compartment she looked into had two students she didn't recognise, and so she passed on that. A few more occupied compartments had her worried she would be spending the whole journey sat in the corridor again, alone this time. Harry had stayed behind at Hogwarts, being given special permission by Headmaster Dumbledore due to his unusual circumstances.

Finally, she came across an empty compartment and quickly stowed her trunk under the seat. She immediately felt the tension in her body loosen. Pulling a book out of her shoulder bag, she sat down to read.

As time passed, she heard the train get busier, as more and more students piled on. They ran up and down the corridors, banging trunks around, talking in what seemed, at least to Hermione, much too loud tones.

A few popped their heads into her compartment, but left quickly, either looking for an empty compartment, or they recognised her and didn't want to sit with the crazy mute girl. She recognised a few fellow Ravenclaw's, some even from her year, but was truthfully glad that they decided to look elsewhere.

Her luck would run out though, when one tiny little girl entered, cast her oddly prominent eyes around the room, and then decided to sit right across from Hermione. She peered at the other girl over the rim of her book, taking in her odd, garishly bright clothing and long dirty blonde hair, which was festooned with several items, such as seashells, acorns, and directly upon her head, a wreath of multicoloured flowers.

'Hullo,' the girl said, her voice bright and cheery, 'I'm Luna Lovegood, what's your name?'

Hermione quickly hid her face behind her book, hoping the odd girl would get the message. She was not so lucky.

'Hello?' She heard Luna get up and come and stand right in front of her, but Hermione kept her eyes focused right on her book and didn't move. Her heart beat like a drum in her chest.

There was silence for several minutes, but Luna kept on standing right in front of her, just staring. Hermione could feel her there, right on the edge of her personal bubble.

Finally, Luna said, 'you are very strange,' and went to sit back down.

Hermione let out a relieved breath, but her reprieve was short lived, as the door to the compartment opened again. She jumped in surprise, causing both Luna, and the new girl, to look at her. She blushed and practically buried her nose between the pages of her book, wishing that Harry were here to make her feel safe.

'Hi Luna,' the new girl said. Hermione heard her slide her trunk under the seat.

'Hullo Ginny,' Luna replied. 'Don't mind her. She is very strange.'

Hermione felt her blush redden and wished the oddly dressed girl would just be silent.

'Why do you think she's strange?' The girl named Ginny asked.

'I said hello to her, and she just ignored me. Either she is strange, or just very rude. I prefer to think that she is strange, though.'

'Oh, I think I know who she is. My brother Ron told me all about her. She's in his year, in Ravenclaw, and he said she doesn't speak to anyone. Her name's… Her-something.'

'She doesn't speak at all?' Luna sounded sympathetic. 'Oh, I wonder if she was bitten by an Osfur bug?'

'A what?'

'An Osfar bug. They steal your voice if they bite you!'

Ginny laughed softly. 'I don't think she was.'

'How do you know?'

'Ron said he's seen her speaking to one of the Professors, so obviously she can speak. She just chooses not to.'

Hermione peeked above the rim of her book again, feeling very uncomfortable that these two girls where discussing her as if she wasn't even in the compartment. She wanted to tell them that they were the rude ones.

Luna was frowning, her pale eyebrows almost meeting. 'I thought you said she doesn't speak to anyone?'

'That's just what Ron said. I guess he meant anyone our age.' Ginny shrugged.

They both turned to look at her again, so Hermione quickly hid behind her book. Just then, the train began to move. Once more, Hermione wished that Harry were here with her, and resigned herself to a very unpleasant ride to Hogwarts.

(-)

In the end, the trip wasn't as bad as Hermione expected. Luna and Ginny quickly lost interest in her and started talking amongst themselves. She actually learnt quite a bit about both girls just from the fact that they seemed to think she was deaf as well as mute.

She learnt that they lived close by one another and had known each other most of their lives, making them pretty good friends. She also learnt that Ginny was part of the Weasley family, that Luna's father owned a newspaper called the Quibbler, and that they both expected to be sorted into specific houses. Ginny wanted to be in Gryffindor with her brothers, and Luna stated quite succinctly that she was certain she would be a Ravenclaw.

Hermione hoped that last part was not true! While she understood why Ginny and Luna would dismiss her as a person worth getting to know, she still wished one, or both of them, had been a little more understanding. She wanted to make friends, like she had with Harry, but she was simply unable to actively do it herself. The fact that Luna had so casually dismissed her as strange (when she herself appeared to be very odd in fact) hurt Hermione a lot.

Of course this was nothing new to her. She had been dismissed and hurt by every young person she had ever met, except for Harry. Harry, who - as the train pulled into Hogsmeade station - she was about to be reunited with. She felt a smile pull at her cheeks as she carefully put her book back into her bag and pulled out her trunk to get her robes.

'Why are you smiling all of a sudden?' The girl called Ginny asked.

Hermione glanced at her briefly, wishing, despite how rude both girls had been, that she could just reply them, but at the same time, being terrified of doing so. Then she ducked her head down to hide her face and went back to finding her robes.

'You can talk right?' Ginny persisted.

Hermione stopped again and looked in Ginny's general direction. She gave her head a small shake. No.

Ginny looked suddenly sad. 'Oh. I guess Ron was wrong,' she said to Luna.

'I told you, she was bitten by an Osfar bug,' Luna commented. 'It's such a shame. There's no cure, you know.'

Ginny shook her head at the nonsense Luna was spouting while Hermione quickly pulled on her robes, closed up her trunk, and left the compartment behind. She followed the crowd to a collection of what appeared to be horseless carriages, making sure to stay just a little behind so as not to get overwhelmed by bodies on all sides. She jumped into the nearest carriage, which was occupied by a group of friends who seemed content to ignore her, a fact she appreciated greatly, and settled back, trying to keep calm as it brought her closer to Harry.

Hermione wondered if he would be waiting for her. She wanted to sit with him, but assumed that wouldn't be allowed as they belonged to separate houses. Nothing in Hogwarts: A History covered such a situation. She felt butterflies in her stomach as the carriage came to a stop, and she couldn't have escaped faster if it had been on fire. They had all come to a stop at the entrance to Hogwarts.

The massive double doors stood open, and standing inside them, alone, but waiting for her, was Harry.

She ran to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

**A/N: **Okay, so I really am teasing you! Sorryyy! LOL. This chapter was not supposed to be this, but it just kind of happened, and I like the symmetry of these two chapters and how they both lead up to their reunion, which I promise will be the next chapter! And the whole chapter will be Harry/Hermione cuteness! As always, hope you guys liked it.

**Steps Toward Something**

Chapter Six

The morning of September the first, Harry woke to Snape nudging his shoulder roughly. He blinked up at his mentor, momentarily disorientated.

'Get up,' Snape said briskly, before wandering off to his own room, not another word spoken, with no explanation given.

Harry sat up and looked around, getting his bearings. He was on the cot in Snape's quarters, where he had been sleeping since returning to Hogwarts. Tonight he would be back in the Slytherin dormitory. _Wonderful_, he thought dourly.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Harry stood and began to get dressed. Snape returned as he was pulling on his t-shirt. It was one of the few things he had bought over the holidays, when Snape had taken him shopping for clothes that actually fit, rather than the hand me downs he had worn all last year (most of them too baggy to actually fit his skinny frame). Ironically enough, while the clothes he bought actually did fit him better, they still hung on his almost skeletal body. It wasn't that he didn't get enough to eat either. He was just naturally skinny for some reason.

'You want breakfast before we get started?'

That being said, Harry was not really a breakfast person. 'Nope.'

'Good. Let's get started.' Snape brandished his wand.

Harry stretched his arms above his head, and then pulled out his wand, tired, but ready to defend himself. You always had to be ready, no matter what. The enemy wouldn't care if he were tired, after all.

Harry spent the majority of the day training with Snape, which helped pass the time. It was hard to concentrate, however, when all he could think about was that Hermione was making her way back to him with every second. Snape picked up on his distraction and punished him for it, hitting him with several unpleasant spells Harry would rather not go into.

After one such occasion, Harry sat nursing a numb arm when Snape came and sat on a wooden chair across from him.

'Thinking about her will get you killed.'

Harry looked up with a snap of his head, at once angry and puzzled. Angry because Snape would imply his connection with Hermione was a bad thing, and puzzled because, not for the first time, it seemed as if Snape could read his mind. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, 'why?'

'You're distracted,' Snape pointed out succinctly. 'If I was a Death Eater, you'd be dead. _You_ can't afford ?'

Harry knew he was right, but hated to admit it, and so he said nothing. Snape clocked him around the ear abruptly. 'Ow! What the hell?'

'I said, do you understand?'

Rubbing his ear, Harry ground out, 'yeah, fine. I get it.'

'I know you care for the girl,' Snape spoke thoughtfully, 'and I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It's good. But you need focus. You can't be thinking about her when you're in life or death situations.'

'This isn't a life or death situation,' Harry pointed out smugly.

'Isn't it?' Snape argued, staring Harry right in the eye.

'What? You gonna kill me?' Harry shot back.

Snape flinched, so minutely Harry almost didn't notice. He took a breath and then replied, 'what I'm saying is; you should consider these training sessions life or death, because what I'm trying to teach you, besides individual spells, is how to handle things like that. And I assure you, Potter, you're going to need to know how.'

'Right,' Harry said, nodding. 'Death Eaters. Evil wizards. Goddamn nest of vipers I have to go sleep with tonight.'

'Not all of them are bad, Potter.'

'So I can feel better knowing, if I am murdered in my sleep, some might feel bad about it?' Harry laughed darkly. 'Great.'

'You slept among them all last year and nothing bad happened,' Snape pointed out.

'Except nearly setting the whole dorm on fire because of an evil snake that just so happened to be a fragment of the evil wizard that tried to kill me when I was a baby. But yeah, I'm sure they've all forgiven me for that.'

'Your point, as well as your sarcasm, is noted. But my hands are tied, Potter. The Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin, so that's where you have to go.'

'Yeah, I know,' Harry said, suddenly thinking of his little hidey-hole, which was coming along nicely, in case you were wondering. 'Just… not looking forward to it.'

'But I know what you are looking forward to, and that is your problem right now.'

'How did you even know I was thinking of her?' Harry asked the burning question.

Snape ignored it. 'Enough stalling.' He stood and pointed his wand. 'Get up or get hurt.'

(-)

Harry was waiting by the great double doors of Hogwarts for nearly a full hour before the carriages started to arrive, one by one, appearing first as little black dots heading towards the castle, and then growing larger and clearer as they drew near. He watched silently, standing still in the middle of the space between the wide-open double doors of Hogwarts. He wanted to be the first thing Hermione saw when she arrived.

Finally, the carriages began to pull up around the yard. She was the first one out, almost jumping from her ride. She looked up at him for a moment, as if seeing him for the first time.

He just smiled. _Welcome home, Hermione._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

**A/N: **There you go. Hope it was worth the wait! Let me know what you think please.

**Steps Toward Something**

Chapter Seven

Hermione really did try. She knew exactly what she was going to say, had been practicing the simple words all summer, but when it came time to say them, they got lodged in her throat like so many others had, time and time before.

_Hello, Harry_. How hard was that?

Instead she ended up flapping her mouth like a fish. On a positive note, she did manage to make a sound at least. A half audible, 'ah,' which she supposed was better than nothing.

Harry continued to smile reassuringly, which just made her feel worse. He was so great and understanding, and yet she _still_ couldn't manage to speak to him. What was wrong with her? Feeling suddenly depressed after so much anticipation, she hung her head in defeat.

By this point, the rest of the Hogwarts student body began to file past them, some grunting in annoyance at fact that they currently blocked part of the entrance. It only took one ignorant, impatient someone, who roughly bumped her out of the way with his or her shoulder (Hermione wasn't sure if it was a boy or a girl) to take what should have been a joyous reunion and turn it inside out. The moment she was roughly shoved aside, she broke. The crowd continued to push against her, from all sides, and she was forced to cower, arms over her head, her cries lost in the chorus of voices and shuffling feet. She wasn't sure how she ended up against the castle walls, but she clung to them like a lifeline, shrinking away from the oblivious swarm of students.

It was only after the mass of humanity had passed and she was alone, that she realised, she wasn't alone. Harry was with her, and he crouched protectively over her, his hand resting ever so lightly against her back. She had been so consumed in her panic that she hadn't even realised. Had he guided her to safety? She looked up through teary eyes and into his face. He looked back with the softest expression she had ever seen, not pity, but concern and tenderness.

'It's okay,' he whispered, moving his hand from her back suddenly. 'They're gone.'

_Harry_, she thought, with such love she felt her heart might explode. She didn't think about what happened next, as she threw herself into his arms and buried her head in his comforting chest. He gasped in surprise, but quickly regained composure and put his arms gently around her. She cried quiet tears into his t-shirt, partly to expunge her fear, partly because she was so happy to see him, to have him here with her again.

He let her cry for a few minutes, humming and whispering encouraging words. Finally, she pushed lightly against his chest, and he immediately released her. The look of nervousness on his face made her feel terrible, as if he was worried he had gone too far in touching her. She only hesitated for a moment before she grabbed his hand and held it. The answering smile on his face made her heart leap in joy, and she smiled back in return. They sat by the entrance to Hogwarts, grinning stupidly at each other for another few moments.

Suddenly, Hermione remember that they were supposed to be going to the Great Hall for the welcoming feast, so she stood up, pulling Harry with her. She wiped her eyes free of tears and gestured towards the still open double doors. Harry followed her into the entrance hall, but he pulled her up short as she went to enter the Great Hall.

'Wait,' he said. 'Let's not. We'll have to sit at separate tables, and,' he paused and looked at their still linked hands, 'I'm not ready for that yet.'

Hermione looked at him, trying to convey with a look, _well, what do we do then?_

'I have something I want to show you,' he said with a wink.

Curious, she allowed herself to be led by Harry as he guided her through the castle. She felt naughty, going against the rules and ditching the welcoming feast, but at the same time, she agreed with him. She wasn't ready to let go of his hand yet either. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through her and she blushed to herself.

Harry led her all the way to an old statue of a knight bearing sword and shield. She watched in confusion as he brought out his wand and tapped it once on the end of the sword and then again in the center of the shield. She wasn't expecting what happened next. The statue gave a jerk, and then moved back, into the wall, which shuddered, and then descended into the floor without a sound. The passage revealed to her was wide and thick with darkness. It looked like the gaping maw of some horrible beast.

When Harry tried to lead her in, she dug her heels in, scared. He glanced back at her reassuringly and she chided herself for being a fool and a coward. It was Harry. She trusted him with her life. He waited patiently for her to take the first step, and then evening his pace with hers.

Hermione gasped with freight when the wall rose up behind them, shutting them in the darkness.

'It's okay,' Harry said soothingly by her wide, 'I'm here. Keep walking. Don't worry.'

Hermione wondered why Harry didn't use Lumos to light up the gloom, but he seemed to know exactly where he was going. She felt him guide her around a few bends before finally he stopped.

'We're here,' he said. 'Lumos Lucerna.' Sudden light blinded her momentarily. When her eyes adjusted, she saw several lamps set into the walls on either side of her, illuminating the space with a soft glow. Directly in front of her, a shimmering drape of black sparkled the light back at her, as if she was staring at the starry night sky. There was a large bookshelf set against one wall, and a long, comfy looking couch against the other. Off to one side were a table and two plush chairs. There was even a fluffy looking cream rug under her feet.

'Do you like it?' Harry asked.

Hermione looked at him and nodded with a smile of amazement. She let go of his hand and started to walk around, looking at everything. Behind her, the darkness was beaten back by the light, but appeared lurking at the edges as the corridor (for that was what it was, she suddenly realised) curved to the right. She glanced back at Harry. He was watching her with a small smile, enjoying her process of discovery.

Hermione focused on the bookshelf first, of course. She read a few titles, amused to find Hogwarts: A History among them.

'They're mostly my books,' Harry said. 'That's the copy you gave me, by the way.' He motioned to said copy of Hogwarts: A History.

Hermione traced the book's spine fondly. She had given it to Harry as a Christmas present last year. In return, he had given her a pearl necklace that used to belong to his mother. It was a little bit too big for her right now, so she kept it safely in her trunk, tucked away, ready for the day she would be able to wear it proudly.

'I figured we could do our homework and stuff here,' Harry said, standing by the table, his hands resting on the back of one chair. 'And if we want to get comfortable, we can relax there.' He pointed the sofa.

Hermione nodded and wandered over to the beautiful sparkling curtain of stars. She ran her fingers lightly along the surface, watching it ripple.

'There's another, well, room I guess, back there. It has a bed in case you ever want to sleep here.' Harry said it so offhandedly, but Hermione felt her cheeks redden anyway. She had a sudden image of them cuddling on the bed and focused on staring at the curtain, until her cheeks felt less hot.

'You really do like it, right?' Harry asked again, this time sounding a little nervous.

Hermione loved it, so she turned, despite her blush, and nodded enthusiastically. She pulled her wand out and conjured a quick piece of parchment and quill.

_It's perfect_, she wrote, and showed it to Harry.

Harry grinned. 'It's not the Chamber of Secrets, but it's ours. No one else knows this even exists. I only found it because… I'll show you later. You must be hungry, right?'

She nodded again. _Yes_.

'I thought you might be, so I've been sneaking food in here for the past few days. Nothing big, but I thought we could have a little picnic?'

Hermione wrote quickly, _that sounds wonderful_, with a smiley face.

'Take your shoes off and get comfortable,' Harry said. 'The rug is really comfy. I'll just get the food.'

Hermione did as he suggested. After removing her shoes and socks, she sat down on the rug and dug her toes into the fluffy material. A soft smile played about her mouth as she waited for Harry to come back. When he did return, he had a basket full of bread, jams, and fruits with him. He removed his shoes and socks as well and sat across from her.

As Harry began to divvy up the food, Hermione watched him, and finally felt at peace for the first time since leaving Hogwarts all those weeks ago.

She was home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

**A/N: **Life is pretty busy, what with work, and countless other things I want to be doing, be that reading a new book, or playing a new video game, or watching the stupidly high amount of TV shows that I watch every week, which leaves little time for actually writing. And I also have my own original stuff I want to be working on, and maybe I should be, but fan fiction was what got me into writing and I really do enjoy it. My point is, I somehow find the time to write for you guys because I love to hear your feedback. So thanks to all who have reviewed so far, you guys are why I do this. Hope you enjoy this one.

**Steps Toward Something**

Chapter Eight

Severus Snape endured the winding ride up to Dumbledore's office in silent contemplation. The Headmaster of Hogwarts had been away for the summer, off on some secret mission only he was privy to, or at the very least, one he had not cared to share with Snape. Now the welcoming feast was over, and so, after thinking long and hard about the situation for the whole summer, Snape was going to demand answers. He had taken Potter in, effectively becoming the boy's guardian, and, if his theories proved correct (and he was pretty certain they were) then Dumbledore owed him an explanation.

Snape knocked, and, 'enter,' Dumbledore called.

Snape found the Headmaster sorting through a few books on his desk, but as he entered, the old wizard glanced up past his spectacles to regard him. 'Ah, Severus, how nice to see you.'

'Indeed,' Snape replied, somewhat dryly. He wandered over to his usual seat, but instead of sitting, he simply placed his hands upon the back of the chair and leaned his weight slightly forward. 'Good summer?'

Dumbledore straightened. 'It was quite pleasant, thank you. Yours?'

'Enough pretending.' Snape had no patience for games. 'You and I both know your summer wasn't spent lounging around on some tropical island, so quit lying and tell me the truth.'

'Hmm,' Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. 'I have not lied to you Severus. If you have a specific question, you are free to ask.'

'Where have you been? What have you been doing? Does it have anything to do with Potter or what we learned last year?'

'That Voldermort is still alive, you mean,' Dumbledore spoke the truth out loud.

Snape just looked at him, refusing to rise to the bait.

'I have been many places, to answer your questions. As for what I have been doing, I have been searching and investigating. And yes, it has everything to do with Harry and the knowledge that a piece of Voldemort resided within him all these years.'

'And?'

'Yes?'

'For Merlin's sake, Albus, tell me!' Snape exploded, pushing the chair over in frustration.

'Tell you what?' Dumbledore remained calm.

'Tell me what? Tell me everything! Must I spell everything out for you? What have you learnt?'

Dumbledore sat down slowly, not taking his eyes off Snape the entire time. It was infuriating, and Snape couldn't understand why the old wizard was being so evasive. Did he doubt Snape's allegiance now, all of a sudden?

'You seem to be very interested in all of this, Severus. And I must wonder, why?'

'Why!?' Snape took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. 'Because… you know I have taken the boy in.'

'I do, but I do not understand why.'

Snape practically snarled. 'Why do you think?' The bitterness was not entirely directed just at Dumbledore.

'Is it just that? Your guilt…'

Snape lowered his head so that his hair fell to cover his face. He saw Lily's eyes, dull and lifeless, her body grey and stiff. The guilt was overwhelming, of course it was, but it wasn't just that. Not anymore. Despite himself, he… would not go there.

He turned and faced the wall, stuck for words and angry.

'You cannot even say his name, Severus. You expect me to trust you with Harry, when we both know that your hate for James consumes you? Does he not remind you of your childhood adversary?'

Snape shook his head, a denial. He turned, stone faced, and stared at the wizard that had, despite his crime, forgiven him, and shielded him from persecution. 'How can I trust you with him, Albus? You wanted to kill him last year.'

'Yes, I… may have been mistaken.'

'You may have been?' Snape tried very hard to keep his rage contained.

'The boy does still share a lot of similarities with Tom Riddle.'

'Your wrong,' Snape said, and took a step forward. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in question. 'He doesn't remind me of the Dark Lord, nor of James Potter.'

'No?'

'No,' Snape continued, 'he reminds me… of myself. So much anger, loneliness, and pain. He is full of it. Yet there is hope. Hope that I had, and lost. I will not, _will not_, let that happen with Lily's son. You can believe whatever else you want about how I feel about him, but you damn sure better believe that. I will not let him make the same mistakes I did. Do you understand, Albus?'

Dumbledore was contemplative for a moment, before he nodded in acceptance. 'Very well. Sit down, Severus. We have a lot to discuss.'

Snape picked up the chair and sat.

(-)

Draco looked for Potter, but could not find him at the welcoming feast. In fact, the other boy wizard was nowhere to be found for the entire night. He kept searching for him, all the way to the Slytherin boy's dormitory, but to no avail. He found Potter's trunk at the bottom of his bed, but the bed was empty, the blankets undisturbed.

'What you doing, Draco?' Crabbe asked stupidly.

'Nothing,' Draco replied absently. 'Anyone seen Potter?'

'Uh.' Goyle had a pained look o his face as he thought. 'Nope.'

'Why?' This was from Crabbe, as he wandered over to Draco's side.

'Forget it,' Draco said dismissively, and walked over to his own bed, pulling the curtains fully around so that none of the other boys could see in. He heard Crabbe and Goyle questioning him, but ignored them as he dug the book out of his trunk.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he opened it, quill in hand, and began to write.

_He's not here._

There was a pause before script began to flow magically onto the page. It read, _are you certain?_

_Yes, I looked everywhere. His trunk is here, but he wasn't at the feast, and he hasn't come back to the dormitory. Do you think he might have run away?_

_ I doubt it. Have patience. He will turn up, and when he does, you will get your revenge._

Draco smiled. Yes, he would.


End file.
